


Show Your True Self

by mags1587



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Inspired by the Frozen 2 Soundtrack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22255861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mags1587/pseuds/mags1587
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley had successfully pulled one over on Heaven and Hell.  They believed the pair to be immune to both holy water and hellfire and as such, had agreed to leave them alone.Satan himself made no such agreement.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 137





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, a while back, I saw Frozen 2 and immediately became obsessed with the soundtrack. While listening to one song in particular, I was struck with inspiration to... write a Good Omens fic. After the initial rush of writing, I did pause and wonder exactly how my muse made that jump, but ultimately shrugged my shoulders and went with it. I hope you enjoy.

Michael's heels clicked against the tile floor as she walked down the hallway. Even though she was late she refused to rush; there were enough whispers in Heaven of late without adding more about archangels rushing here and there. 

She entered the conference room and looked around. As she suspected, she was the last to arrive. Uriel and Sandalphon were sitting down, Metatron was hovering by the window, and Gabriel was pacing.

His pacing stopped when he noticed her. "Good, you're here," he said. "We have a problem."

She resisted the urge to sigh. "What have the traitors done now?"

"It's not them," he said. "It's Lucifer."

Michael was instantly on high alert. "What about Lucifer?"

"Gabriel received word from Beelzebub," Sandalphon said. "He's not on board with the 'leave the traitors alone until we figure out why they're immune to holy water and hellfire' plan."

"Lucifer's plan is to go to Earth and order his demon back to Hell," Uriel said.

Michael shook her head. "No. He's not allowed on Earth."

Gabriel gave her an unimpressed look. "The only reason Lucifer has ever obeyed that rule is because we used force to make him obey that rule."

"We can't fight him right now," Sandalphon said. "We just finished convincing everyone there would be no fighting."

"Agreed," Gabriel said. "Beelzebub assures me all he actually cares about is reclaiming his traitor. Even gave me the time, so we could ensure he doesn't decide to wipe out London or massacre a few hundred thousand humans while he's on Earth."

"And you trust Beelzebub's assurances?" Michael asked, giving Gabriel her own unimpressed look. 

Gabriel nodded. "In this instance, yes," he said. "We go early. Clear out any humans from wherever the traitors are. Lucifer collects his traitor and leaves. The problem, of course, is what to do about our traitor."

Michael did sigh this time. "That idiot will try to fight Lucifer to save the demon."

"Of course he will," Uriel said. "That's essentially what he did at the airbase."

"Only this time he won't have a misbehaving antichrist to save him," Gabriel said. "Aziraphale will attack Lucifer, who will either kill Aziraphale or drag him back to hell."

"We can't let Lucifer have both of them," Michael said. "Two ethereal beings immune to both holy water and hellfire... he'll use them against us."

"He can also force his demon to tell him how they did it," Gabriel said. "If being immune to holy water means immunity to all divine weapons, like we suspect, and if Lucifer finds a way to make all his demons immune, then... well, then we are screwed." 

"Extremely screwed," Uriel said, looking appropriately horrified at the picture Gabriel painted.

"We cannot let that happen," Metatron said. 

"We can drag Aziraphale back here, but it's a risk," Uriel said. "We don't know what he's capable of anymore. All we know is that he has no loyalty to us."

"He's dangerous," Sandalphon said. "He'll fight to get free. If he's not just immune to hellfire but can summon it too, we'd be putting every angel in Heaven at risk."

"There's another option," Gabriel said. He paused for a second. "If he was bound to one of us, he wouldn't be a threat."

Michael's eyes widened. "You can't be suggesting-- against his will, Gabriel?"

"It's an option," he said. "The best option, in my opinion."

"That's... not something we do, Gabriel," Sandalphon said. 

"God granted her archangels the ability to claim lower angels as our own," Gabriel said. "We all have angels pledged to us."

"Yes, we do," Michael said. "They bolster our strength and give us the power to stand against Lucifer's greatest evils, but Gabriel, every one of our pledges chose it willingly. We have never claimed anyone against their will. Lucifer does that -- has done that to every single one of his demons. We don't."

"We'd be doing it to keep Aziraphale safe, though," Uriel said. 

"Exactly," Gabriel said. "And it's not like any of us would mistreat him."

Sandalphon looked to Metatron. "Does God have anything to say about this?"

"God is silent on the matter," Metatron said. "As she has been on every matter for many centuries now." He shook his head. "This decision is ours to make." 

"What else is new?" Uriel said. "Why do you keep asking, Sandalphon?" 

"God is listening and will--" 

"Focus," Michael snapped. Thankfully, that was enough to avert the typical argument. 

"Well?" Gabriel asked. "We don't have much time to decide. Do we go with my plan?"

Metatron spoke first. "Aziraphale no longer accepts our authority. He cares for that demon. If we wish to keep Aziraphale out of Lucifer's grasp, I believe Gabriel's plan is our only option."

"I agree," Uriel said. Sandaphon nodded his agreement as well.

They all looked at Michael, the last holdout. She pursed her lips, but finally nodded. "I still don't know that this is right." 

"Keeping Aziraphale out of Lucifer's grasp is right," Gabriel said. "It's what we have to do, Michael. I know it."


	2. Step Into Your Power

Aziraphale strolled through St. James's Park with Crowley. They were debating where to go to dinner. Admittedly, Aziraphale was doing most of the debating. "The duck at the Ritz is scrumptious, but I do have a taste for oysters. The ones at TG's - the sushi place we went to the other week, you remember?"

"I do," Crowley said. "Their sake was awful."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, their selection of liquor needs work, I'll grant you that, but their food is excellent." His eyes lit up. "Ooh, or we can try that new Italian place! We haven't had Italian in ages."

Crowley stopped suddenly, looking around the park.

Aziraphale stopped too. "What is it?"

"Where did everyone go?"

Aziraphale looked around, confirming what Crowley had noticed. There were no humans in the park. It was a pleasant fall day, and not ten minutes ago the park had almost been too crowded, but now it was deserted. "Well. This can't be good."

A strike of lightning - four strikes - and Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon stood before them. 

"Shit," Crowley said.

Aziraphale wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment. Still, he put on a brave face and stepped forward. "I thought we agreed that I'd be left alone," he said. 

They didn't even acknowledge his words. Gabriel cleared his throat and then spoke. "I, the Archangel Gabriel, claim the Principality Aziraphale as my own, to be bound to me for all eternity."

Aziraphale's eyes widened in shock. They were binding him. Against his will. Even with his newfound knowledge of all Heaven was capable of, he never thought they'd sink to this. There was no denying it, though, not as Aziraphale felt the cords of Gabriel's binding reach out and wind around him.

"No!" Crowley yelled. "I won't let you do this!"

"It's already done," Michael said.

"Come here, Aziraphale," Gabriel ordered. Aziraphale shuddered. So this is what compulsion felt like. The cords tightened and started tugging him along--

"No!" Crowley yelled again, grabbing Aziraphale's wrist. "Aziraphale belongs here, on Earth, with me!"

\--until suddenly the cords weren't there anymore. Aziraphale blinked, taking stock -- the cords were gone, but he still felt the binding hovering over him like a pressure, like a weight ready to fall. He frowned in confusion. 

"You won't be on Earth much longer, demon," Uriel said. "Your master is coming for you."

Crowley froze. Aziraphale's mind was racing, going over everything he knew about these bindings, trying to figure out what was happening. Gabriel had bound Aziraphale. Crowley had protested. But Crowley's protests, like Aziraphale's own, would do nothing, unless... Aziraphale sucked in a breath as the pieces fell into place.

"Crowley," Aziraphale said, looking at his best friend in amazement.

For his part, Crowley looked afraid and defeated. Aziraphale would have to do something about that, and quickly. The ground started to rumble, announcing Hell's arrival, and Aziraphale grasped Crowley's arms to steady himself. 

"No getting out of it this time, angel," Crowley said quietly. "Get out of here. You don't want to be in Lucifer's line of fire."

"Crowley, no, listen, you can fight him."

"I can't," Crowley hissed. "I'm bound to him just like you're bound to Gabriel. It's over. We lost."

"Aziraphale, come here," Gabriel ordered again. 

"No," Aziraphale said, barely sparing a glance over his shoulder at Gabriel and the others.

Crowley's jaw dropped. "Aziraphale... how?"

Before he could answer, the contingent from Hell emerged from the ground. Lucifer, thankfully human-sized, though still sporting the red skin and horns, accompanied by Beelzebub and Hastur. 

Lucifer stared at Crowley. "Traitor. I have been far too lenient with you. Come here and kneel before your master."

Crowley shuddered, obviously feeling some sort of compulsion, but he held his ground. "No," he said. Once the word was out, Crowley looked at Aziraphale in surprise.

Aziraphale answered before Crowley could ask. "You're an archangel, Crowley." Crowley just sputtered, but Aziraphale's declaration drew immediate protests from both Heaven and Hell. 

"He is nothing," Lucifer snapped. "He was nothing as an angel and he is less than nothing now."

"The other archangels were all killed in the war," Gabriel said. "Aziraphale, come here."

Aziraphale ignored all of them and focused on Crowley, because Crowley was the one who had to understand. Crowley was the one who had to believe. "I don't have to follow Gabriel's orders because you challenged his claim on me. Only an archangel can do that, and archangels can't be bound, so whatever Lucifer did--"

Suddenly, violently, Aziraphale was torn away from Crowley. He hit the ground hard and was stunned. As soon as he regained his senses, he looked and saw Lucifer storm over to Crowley, who shifted to face Lucifer but otherwise held his ground. Aziraphale scrambled to get to his feet. He had to help Crowley. By the time he regained his footing, though, Heaven's contingent had rushed over and Uriel and Sandalphon grabbed him. Aziraphale struggled against their grip.

"Aziraphale, stand down," Gabriel ordered. 

"No," Aziraphale snapped.

"Why isn't it working?" Sandalphon asked. Gabriel shook his head, bewildered. 

"It's not working because Crowley challenged your claim and now I get to choose who I'm bound to!" Aziraphale snapped. "I choose Crowley!" He waited for a breath, but nothing happened. 

"You can't choose him," Gabriel said. "He's not an archangel."

"He is," Aziraphale said, stopping his struggles because blast it all, it was useless. Sandalphon and Uriel had both reinforced their hold on him with divine force. He'd never be able to overpower two archangels. 

Across the way, Lucifer and Crowley stared at each other. "Kneel," Lucifer snarled. 

"Make me," Crowley returned. 

They were locked in a battle of wills. Crowley was holding his ground but Aziraphale could see the strain Crowley was under. He had to help. The only way he could help, though, was by lending Crowley his strength through the binding. 

Aizraphale needed to figure this out. He could feel the energy of the binding still hovering above him, waiting for him to choose. If simply stating his choice wasn't enough, perhaps a more formal declaration was needed. "I, Aziraphale, pledge myself to Crowley." Still nothing. "I, Principality Aziraphale, pledge myself to the demon Anthony J. Crowley."

Michael turned her focus away from the standoff for a moment to give Aziraphale an exasperated look. "Even if the demon were an archangel, you'd need to use his true name."

Meaning he was going to have to figure out which archangel Crowley had been. Jegudiel, Raphael, Barachiel, or Raziel. Those were the options. But which one? "Please, Lord, grant me guidance," he prayed. Uriel snorted in derision. Aziraphale ignored her and went through the names over and over, hoping for a sign.

"Won't be long now," Crowley said, smirking at Lucifer. "Whatever you did to me, I'm undoing. Can you feel it? I am shaking off the chains you put on me and when I am free..."

Lucifer snarled and backhanded Crowley. The blow was hard enough to send Crowley's sunglasses flying off; hard enough to send Crowley reeling. He tripped and ended up sprawled across the grass. 

Crowley regained his senses and tried to get back to his feet, but only made it to his knees before Lucifer held him down with a demonic force. Crowley fought for a minute but soon stopped and just sneered up at Lucifer. "You can hold me down all you want, but I'm not kneeling to you, and everyone here knows it." 

"You are mine!" Lucifer yelled.

"Then why don't you order me to stop fighting?" Crowley returned. "Order me to act how you want. Order me to think how you want. You know how to do that. I've seen it enough times. So has Hastur. So has Beelzebub." The aforementioned duke and lord of Hell were staring at the scene in no small amount of shock. Crowley shook his head and smirked. "You're not doing it because you can't. I am not yours!" 

Lucifer snarled and backhanded him again. "You will submit to me!"

Crowley shook off the hit. "Never," he snarled right back, glaring at Lucifer.

Aziraphale whispered the names of the archangels while continuing to pray for guidance. "Raziel, Jegudiel, Raphael--" he stopped, struck with a sudden knowledge. "Raphael," he breathed. "I, Aziraphale, pledge myself to the Archangel Raphael!" he said loudly. The binding still didn't settle. Blast it all, what was he doing wrong? 

"Go on, then," Uriel said. "Go through the rest of my lost siblings. Maybe that will prove it to you."

Aziraphale was about to snap back at her, but Lucifer picked that moment to pull his halberd out of thin air. Once a divine weapon, it had been twisted by Lucifer's evil. A weapon of shining light turned pitch black and it now glistened with blood instead of gold.

Lucifer pointed this weapon at Crowley. "Submit, or be destroyed," he said. Crowley's eyes widened and he glanced from Lucifer to the weapon and back.

"No," Aziraphale breathed. He saw a glint of light out of the corner of his eye and tore his gaze away from Crowley to see that Michael and Gabriel had pulled out their own divine swords. "Help him! Please!"

"He's a demon, Aziraphale," Michael said. "He's Lucifer's to deal with as he sees fit. We cannot interfere."

"He's not Lucifer's! Crowley is Raphael!"

"He is not Raphael!" Gabriel said. "He is Fallen and Raphael is gone!"

Lucifer pushed the halberd forward, slipping the ax head underneath Crowley's chin. "Well? What is your choice?"

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale. With that one glance, Aziraphale knew what Crowley's answer would be. No, no, no... There had to be a way to make this binding work. Aziraphale knew Crowley had been Raphael, he was certain of that, but-- his thoughts stuttered to a halt as he realized. Had been. Past tense. Of course.

Crowley looked up at Lucifer. "Go on then," he said. "Do it. Destroy me. I will never kneel to you ever again!" Lucifer snarled and pulled back the weapon to strike. 

A quick prayer that he'd get it right this time, then Aziraphale spoke his pledge. "I, Principality Aziraphale, guardian of the Eastern Gate, pledge myself to the Fallen Archangel Raphael J. Crowley, tempter and protector of humanity."

Finally, finally, it worked. Aziraphale gasped as he felt the binding settle over and around him like a cloak. Across the way, Crowley gasped as well, then quickly broke free from Lucifer's hold and dove out of the way of his strike. 

As Crowley rolled back to his knees, he pulled a weapon out of thin air. A staff. Raphael's staff. Displayed in the memorial for all the angels who were destroyed in the war. Still on his knees, Crowley held up the staff to block Lucifer's second blow. 

"Oh Lord," Michael breathed. 

"Impossible!" Gabriel said. 

Lucifer snarled and pulled back his halberd to strike again, but this time Crowley raised one hand and pushed, sending out a wave of energy that made Lucifer stumble back. Crowley took the opportunity to climb to his feet. Never taking his eyes off Lucifer, Crowley took a step forward. He held his staff in an easy grip, waiting for Lucifer's next move. 

Lucifer held his weapon at the ready and shifted his weight, but for some reason seemed reluctant to actually strike out at Crowley. "I am the ruler of Hell and lord over all its demons," he said. "I have power you can't even imagine! You cannot beat me!" 

Crowley just smirked. "Are you sure? Shall we test that?" 

Aziraphale sucked in a breath as he realized that Lucifer was afraid. Lucifer was afraid to fight Crowley. While Crowley kept his gaze on Lucifer, Lucifer's eyes flicked over to Heaven's archangels, where Michael and Gabriel still gripped their swords, poised to defend themselves. To Beelzebub and Hastur, who had been shocked before but now looked downright terrified. They knew, as well as Aziraphale did, what a battle between archangels really meant. Aziraphale just hoped that if Lucifer didn't back down, Heaven's archangels would help keep the damage done to London to a minimum.

"Make your choice, Lucifer," Crowley said. "Are we going to fight or are you going to leave?"

Lucifer snarled, his expression full of hatred. But he didn't attack. Finally, finally, Lucifer turned on his heel and stalked away. "You're not worth my time," he spat. His tone was dismissive but he wasn't fooling anyone. Lucifer had lost. Crowley had won. 

"Keep Hell away from me and mine, Lucifer," Crowley said, raising his voice to carry. Lucifer's pace faltered ever so slightly. He didn't give an acknowledgment, just stepped into the newly opened crack in the earth, followed quickly by Beelzebub and Hastur. 

Aziraphale let out a breath as the opening to hell sealed itself and sent up a brief prayer of thanks. Then he cleared his throat. "Do you mind?" he asked Uriel, with a pointed look down to where she was still gripping his arm. Uriel followed his gaze and then let go of his arm as quickly as angelically possible. Aziraphale only had to glance over at Sandalphon to get him to do the same. 

"Do excuse me," he said as he passed Michael and Gabriel. He was feeling an immense amount of satisfaction at the shock on all their faces. He strolled over to Crowley, making sure to keep his pace unhurried. He even put his hands behind his back to emphasize how at ease he was.

Crowley gave him a crooked smile as Aziraphale came up next to him. "You are extremely clever, did you know that?" he murmured.

Aziraphale smiled back. "You've mentioned it once or twice, yes," he said, just as softly. 

Crowley's smile faded as he looked over to the archangels. "Think they'll give us any problems?"

"I don't think they will, no," he said. In a promising sign, Michael had put away her sword and prompted Gabriel to do the same. 

After another minute, Michael stepped forward and cleared her throat. "Raphael J. Crowley, may I ask your intentions?"

Aziraphale sensed more than saw Crowley flinch at his true name, but Crowley quickly schooled his features back into an impassive stare. "Sure, why not?" Crowley replied, then fell silent. 

It took a moment, but then Aziraphale realized what Crowley was doing. "Oh for-- really?" he whispered. "You're going to make her ask a second time?" 

"You know I can't resist a set up like that," he whispered back.

"Just answer her," he said. Crowley opened his mouth, but Aziraphale cut him off. "The sooner this is over, the sooner they leave."

"Fine, ruin all my fun," he grumbled. With a sigh, Crowley turned his attention back to Michael, who looked confused and vaguely annoyed. "My intentions are for Aziraphale and I to keep doing what we've been doing for 6000 years," he said. "What we've been doing on our own, mind you, not what we were doing under orders."

"And what is that, exactly?" Gabriel asked. He froze when Crowley glared at him. Aziraphale suppressed a smile and idly wondered if Crowley's anger was because of the attempted binding or if it was still about the attempted execution. He'd have to remember to ask at some point. 

After a moment, Crowley looked back to Michael. "We're going to enjoy humanity," Crowley said. "Maybe do some temptings or blessings as the mood strikes." Crowley's gaze swept over all four archangels. "What I told Lucifer applies to you too. Keep Heaven away from me and mine."

"If those are your intentions, then yes, we agree to leave both you and Aziraphale alone," Michael said.

"And our human friends, too," Aziraphale hurried to add. "You must leave them alone as well."

"You have human friends?" Sandalphon asked in confusion.

"We have all sorts of human connections," Crowley said. "Tends to happen when you live with them for 6000 years. Now, I don't expect you to stop trying to influence humanity altogether, but you visit any divine retribution on humans for this or anything else..."

"Tempter and protector of humanity," Uriel said quietly in realization, repeating Aziraphale's earlier words. 

"Understood," Michael said, nodding slowly. "That is acceptable." Gabriel made a choked sound, but at Michael's firm look he stayed silent. 

"Good," Crowley said. "We're done here, then."

"We are," Michael said. She nodded at the others, who turned away and walked into a crack of light. Michael turned as well, but then hesitated and turned back. "I thought Raphael had been destroyed in the war. I am glad you were not."

Before Crowley could do anything more than blink, she turned and walked into the light, disappearing along with the rest. "What the fuck does that mean?" he asked.

"I don't know," Aziraphale said. They stood in silence for a bit as slowly, people started filtering back into the park.

Aziraphale went over all that had happened in the last 10 minutes, trying to absorb it all. Heaven and Hell came for them. Gabriel tried to force Aziraphale to submit to him. Crowley was an archangel. Crowley had intimidated Lucifer into backing down. 

Aziraphale had bound himself to Crowley. Irreversibly. For eternity.

Right. He was going to need help absorbing all this. "Would you care for a drink?" Aziraphale asked.

"Yes," Crowley said, sounding even more overwhelmed than Aziraphale. "I would care for many, many drinks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended musical accompaniment for this chapter: [Show Yourself](http://youtu.be/md7dK5-qvHc)


	3. Facing What is Now Known

A few bottles of wine later, Aziraphale was ready to admit that the drinks were not helping. He'd made no progress in truly absorbing all that had happened. 

Crowley was an archangel. Lucifer had almost — but no, that part didn't bear thinking about. Crowley was the fallen archangel Raphael, and Aziraphale had bound himself to him. 

So much had changed and yet everything still felt normal. Really. Aziraphale should be completely and utterly thrown by all that had happened. So why wasn't he? At the very least the binding should be something he couldn't ignore, but even that faded into the background unless Aziraphale was consciously thinking about it. 

It made no sense that he was taking all this in stride, but Aziraphale resolved to stop worrying about it for now. If he descended into panic later, so be it. 

Aziraphale got to his feet, swaying only a bit, and went over to the table with the bottles. He found one that wasn't empty yet and refilled his glass. Before he went back to his seat, Aziraphale waved the bottle towards where Crowley was sprawled out on the couch. "Do you need a top up?" 

Crowley shook his head in a negative. He hadn't uttered a word since they got back to the bookshop. Not that Aziraphale had been much for conversation either. 

Aziraphale collapsed back into his seat and watched Crowley as he sipped his wine. He wondered if the drinks were helping Crowley absorb all this, but somehow doubted it. Today's events had covered all of Crowley's prickliest subjects - Lucifer, his fall, who he'd been before his fall... come to think of it, Aziraphale should prod Crowley into talking sooner rather than later. It would not do to let Crowley dwell too long on something as significant as this. He would give it until the end of this glass. Then he'd make Crowley talk to him.

Before he was halfway done, though, Crowley jerked. "Fuck," he swore. He moved out of his sprawl on the couch and sat upright, staring at Aziraphale with wide eyes. (He never had retrieved his sunglasses.) "You're bound to me."

Well, of course Aziraphale was bound to Crowley, why did he sound so surprised? "Uh, yes?"

"Fuck," Crowley said again, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. "Fuck. I'm sorry, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale wondered for a moment if he'd drank enough to start hallucinating, because Crowley wasn't making any sense. "You're sorry?" he repeated.

"I am. I'm so sorry. We'll figure out how to reverse the binding. There's got to be something."

"Reverse the binding? Why would we reverse the binding?" That was the stupidest idea he'd ever heard. "We're not reversing the binding."

"Yes we are, we have to--"

"No we don't, we can't, Crowley, it's fine--"

"It's not fine, you must hate it--"

"Of course I don't hate it--"

"Then you haven't thought about what it means, because--"

"I have thought about it, and--"

Crowley threw his wineglass on the floor where it shattered, then stalked over and hauled Aziraphale off the chair by his lapels -- Aziraphale had just enough presence of mind to move his own glass to the side table before that happened. "I own you, Aziraphale," Crowley hissed. "I could order you to do anything, order you to think anything, and you wouldn't be able to stop me. You're really going to claim you don't hate that? That you're okay with never being in control of yourself or your life or anything ever again?"

Aziraphale stared at Crowley, biting back his initial response (telling Crowley he was being ridiculous would not help). How to make Crowley understand, though? After a moment, Aziraphale brought his hands up and squeezed Crowley's, not trying to force off his hands, just giving a gentle nudge. An unspoken question. Crowley huffed and let Aziraphale go; when he spun away Aziraphale allowed himself a small smile. 

He schooled his expression and walked over to the shattered wine glass, then shook his head and looked at Crowley. "Really, my dear, you could have gotten wine on my books." Crowley scoffed, annoyed, but Aziraphale continued before he could start ranting again. "Could you clean it up, please?"

"Oh, for--"

"Crowley," Aziraphale interrupted. "Please."

Muttering angrily under his breath all the while, Crowley snapped his fingers and his glass and the spilt wine disappeared from the floor and rematerialized, good as new, next to Aziraphale's glass. 

Aziraphale smiled. "Thank you. Now, let's sit down." 

Crowley glared at him. "Aziraphale, don't-- this is serious--"

"Yes, quite serious," Aziraphale said, still smiling. Despite Crowley's annoyance, he offered no protest as Aziraphale led him back to the couch and then pushed him to sit down. Aziraphale sat down next to him, twisted to face him, and smiled expectantly. 

"What? What are you up to? Why are you smiling? This is serious!"

He was going to have to spell it out for him. "I know it is, Crowley. A lot happened today. A lot of foundation-shattering revelations came to light." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Gabriel tried to claim me. You challenged him. I chose to pledge myself to you."

"Except you didn't have a choice," Crowley said. "You had to bind yourself to someone and I was just the less awful choice."

"I wasn't even thinking of any of that when I was trying so desperately to figure out your real name so I could bind myself to you," he said. "Lucifer was too strong for you alone. He almost--" Aziraphale cut himself off; he still wasn't thinking about that. "I wanted to help. I wanted to make the binding work so you'd have more strength to fight him off. That's all I was thinking of when I bound myself to you." 

"Okay, so-- point, that is probably the only way I was able to shake him off, but--"

"But nothing," Aziraphale said. "Crowley, the advantages of this binding far outweigh the downsides. You're powerful enough to stand up to Lucifer himself with the help of this binding, powerful enough to make Hell and Heaven back down. I'm protected with this binding. No other archangel can take me away from you with this binding." 

"But I could make you do anything," Crowley said. 

"You won't."

Crowley made an incredulous noise. "You can't know that!"

"I do know that, because just a little bit ago, when I asked, you let me go, cleaned up your mess, and sat down with me on this couch," Aziraphale said. Crowley gaped at him for a moment before scowling in annoyance.

"You bastard," he said.

"Just enough of one to be worth knowing," he said. "Crowley, my dear, I promise, I don't hate the binding and I don't, could not ever, hate you. I trust you, and I have faith that whatever bumps there are, we'll work them out together." 

Crowley stared at him searchingly for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. "You're not lying to me, are you?"

"Of course not," Aziraphale said, then just raised an eyebrow when Crowley wasn't convinced. "Have I ever been able to successfully lie to you?"

Crowley snorted. "Have you ever been able to successfully lie to anyone?"

Aziraphale was too pleased that he'd gotten Crowley to calm down to even pretend to be annoyed. "I trust you, Crowley," he said. "Trust me, and believe me when I say that I really am okay with this."

Again, Crowley just stared at him searchingly. "I'm not," he finally said. "I'm not okay with this, Aziraphale."

"It's fine, my dear."

"It's not fine!" Crowley said. "It's as far away from fine as-- as Alpha Centauri! I'm afraid to even ask you anything because what if it comes out as an order? I can't do that to you. I can't. I can't."

Crowley was working himself up again. "You won't, Crowley. You won't do it by accident, and if even if you did, you'll know and you can reverse any orders right away."

"Reverse-- fuck, no, you don't understand," he said. "All it'll take is one slip. Just one, that's all, and I'll ruin everything."

"Crowley, don't be--" Aziraphale cut himself off again. (It still wouldn't help to tell Crowley he was being ridiculous.) "You won't ruin anything," he said. "I trust you."

"You shouldn't!" he said. "You don't know what it's like. You don't know what I could do. What I could make you do. What I could take from you."

None of Aziraphale's words were helping to stem Crowley's growing panic, so he grabbed Crowley's face and forced him to look at him. "You are not Gabriel," he said firmly. "You are not Lucifer. You are my best friend, Raphael J. Crowley."

Crowley flinched at the name and squeezed his eyes shut, jerking away from Aziraphale.

"Oh, my dear, I'm sorry," he said. "What is it, does the name hurt somehow?"

"No, s'fine."

"Crowley, it's obviously not fine. It happened before with Michael, too. Just tell me."

Crowley opened his eyes. "Doesn't hurt. Just makes me remember."

"You're getting back the memories Lucifer took," Aziraphale realized. He'd wondered about that. "Well, that's good. Right?"

"It'd be good if it wasn't all a jumbled mess," Crowley countered. "And I undid all the shit Lucifer did to my head which is good but thinking is different now and it's weird and then I remember random shit about being Raphael-- fuck." Crowley cut himself off, squeezing his eyes shut again.

"Getting drunk was a bad idea. We should sober up." Even as he said it, Aziraphale purged the alcohol from his system.

"Already did," Crowley mumbled, holding his head in his hands. "Can't risk ordering you around because I'm drunk."

It was obviously going to take a lot more work to get through to Crowley regarding the orders bit, but Aziraphale put aside that concern because Crowley was sober but still acting as though he was impaired. "So-- you're out of sorts because you're remembering?"

"Wasn't bad at first," Crowley mumbled into his hands. "Now mind's a tangled mess and every new memory makes it worse."

"What can I do to help?" Crowley shook his head and Aziraphale realized the issue. "It won't be an order, my dear, just a request. Tell me." He put a hand on Crowley's knee, which finally got Crowley to look back up at him. "Please. Let me help." 

It was another minute before Crowley spoke. "Just... can you... stay?"

"Of course."

"No, not just stay, but stay with me--"

"I won't leave your side for a second, Crowley, not until this has passed." Crowley stared at him for a long moment. "You didn't order me, my dear. I could refuse if I wanted to; I just don't want to."

Crowley relaxed minutely. "I think I want to sleep. Might help. If I do--"

"I won't leave your side even while you're asleep. I promise." Crowley just stared at him. Aziraphale nodded. "Right, then, if you're going to sleep, we'll head to your flat. Let me just grab a couple of books in case you're out for a few days."

Aziraphale grabbed a satchel and put a few books into it. "We should miracle over, you're in no shape to drive, my dear," he said. He caught sight of Raphael's staff out of the corner of his eye and grabbed it too, but then stopped short and stared at the staff.

"What?" Crowley said, immediately jumping up (almost stumbling) then making his way over to Aziraphale.

"Crowley, this... there's divinity, holiness in this staff. It should have burned you." Crowley met his eyes for a moment, then looked down at the staff.

He reached out and let his hand hover over the staff for a second, then pulled back. "I can't," he said, his voice wrecked. "I can't, angel."

"It's fine," Aziraphale said. "It's fine, my dear. We'll deal with it later."

"Nope. Later won't help. I can't. It has to stop." Crowley grabbed his head in his hands and walked away. "It has to stop. I can't."

Aziraphale reflected that it was a good thing he was taking this all in stride, considering the state Crowley was in. He put his books and the staff down on the floor and walked over to Crowley.

He grabbed Crowley's wrists and pulled his hands down. Crowley looked at him with more wild-eyed panic than he'd seen yet tonight. Aziraphale squeezed Crowley's wrists gently. "What needs to stop, my dear?"

"Remembering. I have to stop remembering. Every memory that comes back, it changes me. I can't-- The next memory might be the one where I turn around and find I'm a completely different person. I'm losing myself, angel." 

"Oh, my dear, you're not losing yourself, you're becoming yourself. Your true self. Your memories of being Raphael won't change you in any way that matters."

"I'm not him. I'm not an archangel."

"No, but you're not a demon, either," Aziraphale said. "You never belonged to Lucifer. He just tricked you into thinking you were. Shaking off those chains will change you, just like your memories will, but you won't change in any way that matters." The words seemed to help; Crowley's panic was ebbing. "I can't even begin to imagine how overwhelming this is for you, my dear, but once this initial onslaught has passed, things will settle and you will still be yourself, just more so."

"Aziraphale, stop being reasonable, I'd much rather keep panicking," Crowley said. After a moment, he froze, a different type of panic crossing his face.

It took Aziraphale a moment to understand, then he rolled his eyes. "Oh for heaven's sake, Crowley. That wasn't an order, I told you that you couldn't do it by accident so stop fretting over every off-handed comment, and no, I won't stop being reasonable."

Crowley glared at him. He shook off Aziraphale's hands and grabbed his lapels, crowding Aziraphale back against a nearby bookcase. "You have no idea what you are talking about," he hissed. "You don't have the slightest clue what it means to be owned. What I've seen..." he turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut. He continued, his voice growing shakier. "The thought of doing any of it to you, even by accident, makes me want to throw myself into a vat of holy water."

Aziraphale felt a wave of shame sweep over him. "You're right, I'm sorry," he said. As much as he knew that Crowley would never take advantage of the binding to control his thoughts or actions, Crowley had seen Lucifer use that control on demons for 6000 years. Crowley had felt some sort of control used on himself. And here Aziraphale was just dismissing his feelings like they were all nonsense. "I'm so sorry, my dear, I shouldn't be making light of your worry." Crowley had started to calm down at Aziraphale's quick apology; he looked only vaguely annoyed now and had let go of Aziraphale's lapels. "I know this binding is serious," Aziraphale continued. "It just doesn't feel serious to me, because-- well, because it's you. How could I feel anything but safe with you?"

That declaration startled Crowley out of annoyance and into shock. Aziraphale didn't blame him; it's not like either of them were in the habit of stating these things straight out. 

It took a minute for Crowley to gather himself to speak. "It's still serious. It's extremely serious and I don't want it."

"I know," Aziraphale said, catching Crowley's hands in his own. "We'll talk it through. Not now, but later, when your memories have settled. We'll talk. We'll figure things out." Crowley looked reassured by that. Aziraphale squeezed his hands. "Until then, Crowley, if you need something from me please ask. I'll do my best to guess but if I'm not getting it right please tell me. You're my best friend and far too many times I wasn't there for you. Let me be here for you now. Please promise me that."

Crowley stared at him for a moment. "You may not want to be my best friend after I remember, you know," he said. "Really, the rest of the archangels, fallen or not, range from annoying gits to complete assholes."

The words and tone were light, played off as a joke, but Aziraphale could hear the very real question and the fear behind it. "Don't forget who figured out your true name, my dear," Aziraphale said. "I already know who you are."

Crowley stared at him for a moment, then steeled himself. "Will you say it again? The whole pledge thing?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said. "I didn't really hear any of it, before. I need to hear it."

Aziraphale hesitated. "I could tell you later, when you're more up for it."

He shook his head. "No. Now. I need to hear it now."

"If you're sure."

Crowley shifted his hands so he was gripping Aziraphale's forearms; Aziraphale shifted his grip as well to give Crowley more support. "I'm sure," Crowley said. 

"I, Principality Aziraphale," Crowley's eyes widened, already starting to feel or remember-- something. Aziraphale held on tighter and continued, "guardian of the Eastern Gate, pledge myself to the Fallen Archangel Raphael J. Crowley, tempter and protector of humanity."

Crowley was still on his feet, but was trembling badly. His eyes were open but Aziraphale knew he wasn't seeing Aziraphale or the bookshop; instead lost in a memory. 

It wasn't until Crowley blinked and came back to himself that he stumbled -- Aziraphale managed to keep them both on their feet. "All right there, my dear?"

"Fuck, I actually chose it," he whispered.

"Chose what?" Crowley just shook his head, trembling even more. "Right," Aziraphale said. "Tell me later. Let's get to your flat so you can rest." He bustled Crowley into the closest chair, then retrieved the bag of books and Raphael's staff. Crowley stayed in the same state of shock as Aziraphale miracled them to Crowley's flat and pushed Crowley towards the bedroom.

"Do you have pajamas or shall I miracle something for you?"

That got Crowley to respond, at least. "'m not wearing tartan pajamas," he said. He had to concentrate for a moment, but then waved his hand over himself and changed into black silk pajamas. Given his current state, Aziraphale was impressed he was managing even minor miracles.

Crowley slithered into bed. Aziraphale miracled himself a pair of pajamas and couldn't help smiling at Crowley's groan when he saw the tartan pattern.

"You're really going to make me look at that fashion abomination?" Crowley asked. 

"Close your eyes," Aziraphale returned. He got out one of his books and climbed into bed, sitting up against the padded headboard. Crowley's hand twitched -- he started to reach for Aziraphale and then stopped, drew back.

Aziraphale took the initiative and reached out and grasped Crowley's hand. Crowley gripped it like a lifeline, curling up on his side around the hand, burying his face in the pillow. 

"You're still trembling, my dear," Aziraphale said softly. 

"Feels like I'm Falling," he said, voice muffled by the pillow. "Feels like when I land I'll lose myself again."

"I'm here. I'll catch you." 

Crowley shuddered, and let out something between a laugh and a sob. He started to say something then caught himself, bit the words back. Aziraphale could guess what he'd been about to ask. "I won't leave you, my dear. Not for one second. I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended for this chapter (and the next one, for that matter) to be posted sooner than this, but real life is kicking my ass at the moment. Bear with me; fingers crossed things will slow down soon.


End file.
